House of Cards
by probablysomebody
Summary: LietBel AU starring vampire Belarus, her (mostly) willing victim Lithuania, and vampire slayers/casual crossdressers Hungary and Poland, with some guest appearances from the totally straight vampire slaying Beilschmidt brothers. Rated M for future smut.
1. Chapter 1

_**Huge thanks to my friend, Drew (you can find him on Tumblr, his URL is drewgon13) for helping me brainstorm/world build and just for keeping me motivated to write this.**_

_**Sorry it's so short.**_

Toris pulled his coat tighter in a half-hearted attempt to protect himself from the pouring rain; the late autumn weather had decided to bless the forest he was lost in with a twilight storm, and he was completely unprepared.

_Once I find a town_, he thought, shivering but not daring to stop, _I'll get on the next train west. I don't care where it goes, as long as it's somewhere warm._

His imagination was full of the sparkling waters of the Mediterranean, but he was by now ankle deep in mud, and the rain had started to turn into sleet. Thunder growled ominously overhead, and he forced himself to keep going. Stopping meant a chance that the man he was running from would catch up, and Toris was determined not to let that happen under any circumstances. He was finally free, goddammit, and he wanted to stay that way, even if that way meant he was both soaked and freezing with no hope of eating for God knew how long.

His hair was dripping wet; loose strands clung to his face as he hugged himself and bowed his head to the wind roaring through the trees. He had lost all feeling in his fingers and toes, and he was shaking so badly he could barely walk, but he pressed on stubbornly. He tried telling himself that things could be worse, but couldn't quite convince himself except with the vague threat of an extended vacation to Siberia if he was found—he doubted the threat would be carried through, but he didn't feel like taking chances. Besides, he doubted Siberia could be much more miserable than this, or colder than a usual Muscovite winter.

Toris suddenly found himself on a badly paved brick road; treacherous as it was, it was a welcome change from the mud. More importantly, it meant there was a town nearby, and towns meant inns, and food. _And trains to somewhere warm._

The storm had mostly faded; the sleet had returned to rain in the form of a steady drizzle, and the wind had stopped. Toris sighed and kept going, trying to find his way in the blackness; at least with the storm, lightning flashes could have offered him some light. He thought he was near the end of the forest, though, and that brought some hope.

He soon found that he was right; the silhouettes of the trees were growing farther and farther apart, and the road was in better shape. He followed it until he couldn't see any trees, and kept walking, fixed on the idea of reaching the town he was sure it led to.

Toris never actually found the town that night; he had stumbled on for another hour when he saw a large house, the front windows aglow with the soft warmth of candlelight. He'd stood in front of the house longingly for several minutes before gathering the courage to ask whoever was home for shelter.

A young woman, about his age, opened the door; her long, silvery blonde hair caught the candlelight from within, tinging it with gold. Her pale face was blank, except for her dark blue eyes, which glinted with cool surprise.

"P-please, Miss, can I—"

She stepped back from the doorway immediately. "Yes, of course, please, come in." Despite her calm appearance, her voice sounded flustered; Toris hesitated before entering her house with a mumbled thanks. His shivering was worse than it had been in the pouring rain, and her house didn't seem much warmer than the forest he'd left not too long ago.

"There's a fireplace, if you want to warm up," she said, waving vaguely in the direction of the parlor.

"Thank you," Toris muttered again.

She shrugged before flicking her hair over her shoulder and disappearing into another room. Toris stared after her, captivated, before a brief coughing fit reminded him that he should go get warm, or at least dry off a little.

He made his way to the parlor, which wasn't any warmer than the front hall, in spite of the large fireplace. It was dark, too; Toris nearly tripped over several chairs as he made his way to the far end of the room. The fire was the only source of light, but she'd let it burn down low. A few feeble flames danced over the glowing embers, casting the room in a reddish glow. The area around the fireplace was warm, Toris was relieved to discover; he sat as near to the fire as he could, hoping she'd come in soon and add another log to it.

Toris sighed, closing his eyes as he waited for the warmth of the fire to dry him off. He hadn't had much sleep over the past week, and it was finally beginning to take its toll. It would have been rude of him to fall asleep, but fatigue seemed to add lead to his eyelids and his shoulders; he leaned back against the stone and let the darkness take over as the flames behind him grew weaker and then went out.

There was a burning feeling at the base of his neck; it pulled him mercilessly back to consciousness and took over his reflexes; he lashed out at whatever was causing it before he knew there was actually a tangible cause. His hand came into contact with cool skin and he jumped up in panic, but was pulled back down almost before he'd moved. There was a rustle of skirts as his attacker pushed his shoulders against the wall, and Toris realized who she was with a silent curse aimed at himself. Stupid of him, to be so trusting; stupid to fall asleep, to let himself be caught off guard.

He shuddered as cold lips pressed against the source of the burning, and he pushed against the woman pinning him down, but she remained unaffected; her teeth cut into his neck again, adding to the pain. She pressed her tongue to the new wound, licking the blood away before it could get anywhere. Toris continued struggling against her as she started sucking at the wound, trying to encourage the blood to come to her faster. His heartbeat echoed deafeningly in his ears; his breathing had grown frantic, but his resistance could only go so far in the dark. He felt nauseous, and was sure that, had he been able to see the room, it would be spinning around him. He couldn't think clearly; he was aware of the pain and his heartbeat and nothing else, and soon those sensations faded as he succumbed to unconsciousness again.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Wow, sorry for, like, dropping off the face of the Earth! My muse has been mostly for my other fic or nonexistent altogether, so I apologize for not updating, like, months ago! Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter, and the rest of the fic!**_

Pain.

Dull, throbbing pain.

That was all Toris was aware of. His whole body _ached_, it hurt to _breathe_, and, when he opened his eyes, he was blinded.

The woman was leaning over him, he saw when the room tried to come into focus; the background was a dizzying blur of dark reds, but he could see her with perfect clarity.

"So you _will_ live," she muttered, so softly he thought it was part of a fever dream; a cold finger brushed across his throat and he closed his eyes again.

Toris was alone. His head felt like it was about to split in two, and his stomach was reminding him of how long it had been since he'd last eaten, but he made himself sit up.

The room wasn't spinning this time, though, in the dark, he could barely make out the outlines of the furniture. He was in a bed, he noticed, a larger and softer bed than he'd ever thought could exist.

He forced himself to get up, unceremoniously throwing the blankets off. The wood floor was cold beneath his bare feet, and his clothes, still dirty from the road, did little to protect him from the chill. Shivering, he crossed the room to the only window and opened the curtains.

The world outside was made of misty grays and greens; the manor was in the mountains, overlooking a valley, but it was not _high _in the mountains: it was in the shadow of the true giants, their steep, rocky slopes covered in snow and obscured by clouds. Toris felt dizzy looking up at the jagged peaks, so he focused on the valley. There was a village, hugging a snaking river that seemed to be made of silver in the early light. A slash of pale yellow on the horizon informed him that the window faced east…for what good that knowledge did him. However breathtaking the view, his room was no doubt meant to be his prison.

Feeling as though his hand was a separate entity from himself, Toris reached up to touch the base of his neck, folding down the collar of his shirt, stiffened with dried blood, to feel the wounds. They were there, sore to the touch; _that _part, at least, had not been a dream.

_Why didn't she kill me_? The thought nagged at him, but he pushed it down. She'd make her intentions clear soon, he hoped; in the meantime, it wouldn't hurt to get a better idea of his room.

It was large, and plain. He had a bed, a table next to it, and a wardrobe—empty, upon closer inspection. There was a fireplace, too, but no wood and the dust on the mantle was probably newer than the ashes.

Everything was red, though; the curtains, the blankets, the wallpaper; even the wood seemed to have a scarlet hue.

He sat on the bed, facing the window, not bothering to fix the blankets. He hoped the woman would come back soon, and with food.

The sky turned from gray to blue and she did not come. Toris got up, tried the door, found it locked, and returned to the bed, laying on his back. He tried not to think about what her intentions might be, but there was nothing else for him to do, and his imagination wouldn't leave him alone. Did she plan to leave him locked in his room until he starved? He _hoped _not; if she was going to kill him, he'd rather she choose a faster method.

He attempted to remember all he knew about vampires—that _had _to be what she was—but he'd never paid much attention to folk tales.

_Maybe she's nocturnal._ Absurd as the thought may be, it seemed to be the only explanation; the sun continued to rise higher in the sky, apparently proving the idea.

It was late afternoon when she entered the room without knocking; though she lingered in the doorway, she had an aura of being in charge, and Toris shivered when he looked at her. She was beautiful, dressed properly in all dark blue, her blonde hair done up in what he assumed was the latest fashion, but he found it difficult to be too distracted by her beauty. He remembered all too clearly what had happened the first night.

_The first night of how many? How long have I been here? _He meant to ask, but her severe face killed his courage and the question.

"Follow me," she ordered, and Toris obeyed.

She led him through dark, labyrinthine halls, past doors to rooms that looked like they hadn't been entered in years. All windows were completely blocked by heavy curtains, and Toris couldn't help but feel a little claustrophobic in the old house.

At last, they reached the kitchen, and the woman ordered him to sit down at the small table.

"You're going to stay here," she said, still standing. "You're going to do whatever I tell you to, and you're not going to complain about it." Her voice was calm, indifferent; Toris wondered nervously how many times she'd said the same thing to different people.

Rather than asking, he nodded.

"My name is Natalya Arlovskaya. And that's all you need to know about me."

Again, Toris nodded, and she spun around and vanished without another word.


End file.
